


Cracking Under Pressure

by julietofmayfair



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Statement fic for my Buried avatar OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julietofmayfair/pseuds/julietofmayfair
Summary: Case #0142103 - Statement of Amanda Blakely, regarding the occurrences witnessed during a mock-examination presided over by one Professor Terrence J. Claravan.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	Cracking Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> CW: mentions of choking, mention of suicide.

**ARCHIVIST**

Statement of Amanda Blakely, regarding the occurrences witnessed during a mock-examination presided over by one Professor Terrence J. Claravan. Original statement given March 21st, 2014. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.

Statement begins.

**ARCHIVIST (Statement)**

College is scary, isn't it? I mean, it does sound kind of ridiculous if I just say it like that, but if you _really_ think about it, there's nothing that you're taught in school that can ever really prepare you for the terrifying reality that is that next step. From trying to understand yourself well enough to pick a fitting career path, to the exams and processes of admission if you want to go to one of the best schools, not to mention having to build new friendships from the ground up. What I mean is, being a first year student is _tough._ I like to think that I've learned my fair share of lessons over these last few years, but even then...I don't think I could have ever imagined what I was I about to experience.

It was back in 2011 that I started my journey as a fresh uni student. I had always been a bit of an overachiever, to tell you the truth, and if anything, that meant that, above all, I was eager. I didn't have much trouble choosing what path I wanted to follow, either. All throughout high school I began to develop what would become a long term interest in geology--all thanks to one brilliant natural sciences teacher--, and when it came time to pick my degree, I went for that. People would look at me and go, _"Amanda, what's so special about rocks?"_ , and never mind that geology as a whole is so much wider than just "rocks" and that in most of its variants it's an incredibly lucrative choice of study, but the thing is...rocks _are_ interesting. Our planet is billions of years old and we can study that just by looking at them. How it came to be, how it's transformed itself over a time span so _massive_ that makes our existence seem insignificant, how it moves and trembles and _breathes._ It fascinated me, and so that's what I chose.

As I said, I've always been a very good student--constantly earning top grades without having to put in that much of an effort--so when the time came to decide where I'd study I basically had the whole list to choose from. I did a bit of research on all my options, and in the end I ended up with Durham University. From what I'd heard, the geology courses at Durham were some of the best rated in all of the UK, and it would only take me three years to get my BSc, so needless to say I was thrilled to get started.

It was... _rough_ , those first few days. Funny enough, turns out being a straight A student during high school means almost _nothing_ once you reach these higher echelons of education. The rhythm of university life was much tougher than I was expecting, and as I began to spend countless afternoons with my head buried in a pile of books just to be up to date with the lectures, I felt that I had finally been given a wake up call. Lucky for me, it didn't take me too long to get used to that, and before I knew it I was well into my first semester.

Out of all the classes we had during that period, it was 'Earth Materials' that called to me the most. The other modules for that time tended more towards the general--classes like mathematics and intro to earth sciences that, although critical for building a good foundation, were not quite as specialized as we had hoped for--, so it was with 'Materials' that we all got our first taste of what we had come there to learn. And it was there, on my first day of class, that I met Professor Claravan.

Even after all these years, I still don't know how I would describe him. He was strange, for sure, and I'm certain as soon as he stepped foot into that classroom every student was thinking the same, but if you were to ask me _why_ , I probably couldn't put my finger on it. He was lanky, with frizzy bangs that framed his face and an unkempt stubble that could have used a good shave. The clothes he wore, although practical, had probably never seen an iron in their life, and I guess looking at him I just thought he was... _dirty._ I was quick to banish the tought, though. He was a geologist, after all. If he wanted to come teach class looking like a dirt-covered cave dweller, then he was totally within his rights to do so. Perks of the job.

Aside from the physical aspect, he really wasn't that bad of a guy, or at least that's what I thought then. I remember him writing his name on the whiteboard that first day--Terrence J. Claravan, although we never got to find out what the J stood for--, and then immediately launching into our first lecture. He was strict, yes, and could be downright intimidating if he was looking at you to answer, but he also had a dry sense of humor that gave his classes a fun, informal atmosphere. He obviously knew a lot, which was evident by how thorough he was with each unit he taught, so overall, I didn't have much to complain about. I did check a students' forum, though, out of curiosity, just to see what the general opinion was about him, and I still remember what one of the commenters said: _"Fun lectures, but will squeeze you during examination"._

The following weeks went off without too much of a hitch. I won't bore you with the details, but we ended up learning a lot in 'Materials', about the different types of rocks and the way they form, about minerals and how to identify them, and plenty more. Of course, we still had our first _proper_ university exam ahead of us, so we were all a bit anxious as the days went by. Before our nerves got the best of us, Professor Claravan told us we would be having tutorials first, as a kind of practice before the actual exam. Part review class, part mock examination, Professor Claravan's tutorials would consist of small groups of students--of two or three people each, depending on the size of the class--who would face him and answer the questions he asked, as if it was a real exam. Of course, there would be no grades awarded for it, and we would be able to dispel any doubts we had in the process, but he reasoned it would be a great exercise for us. _"Pressure without pressure"_ , as he said. As far as I was concerned, that was more than fair, as it would give us not only the chance to review the content, but also practice our oratory. So with only a few weeks until the day of the tutorials, it was time to get studying.

I wasn't alone when it came to that. I had never been the most social girl during high school, but somehow I had managed to make some good friends here early on, and among them was Austin Price. He and I shared most of our classes, giving us plenty of time to get to know each other, and we ended up hitting it off pretty well. He was a nice kid, rather shy but extremely bookish and reliable, just like me, so much so that we began to study together. I would never have considered doing that back in high school, but with Austin, we just... _clicked._

And so our afternoons were spent together, holed up in the library or in one of our rooms at Durham castle, piles of books strewn all around as we went through the complete syllabus with meticulous precision, volleying question after question to prepare ourselves well. Professor Claravan had said he didn't mind how we arranged the groups for the tutorials, so going together was clearly our best bet. I remember asking Austin one night, as we packed our books up for the day, what he thought of Professor Claravan. It was a completely innocent question on my part, but I sensed some apprehension on Austin's part, and he looked as if he didn't know how to reply. His voice was soft as he gave me his answer, but I still remember it to this day. _"Suffocating"._

That definitely wasn't what I was expecting. I mean, if I looked at it the right way, then maybe I could _kinda_ see it--Claravan's sense of humor probably wasn't everyone's cup of tea, and he certainly could be a bit intimidating--, but _"suffocating"_ was such an odd choice of word. I wanted to prod him further, to know _why_ , but something in the way Austin's shoulders sagged made me stop, so I didn't push it. Maybe I should have.

Tutorial day found us well prepared, yet there was still a feeling of tension and excitement in the air, one that I could feel rippling through the students as they all waited anxiously for their turn. Outside the classroom, people clustered together in their little groups, frantically doing some last minute revisions before Professor Claravan would poke out from behind the door and call the next team forward. We all _knew_ this wasn't a test, of course, but when you're fresh out of high school, even a simple tutorial seemed like a challenge, and we were all feeling the pressure. Austin was quiet beside me, his course book open on his lap, though he didn't seem to be reading it. His eyes were fixed on the classroom door, and I could almost feel his heart skipping a beat every time another group was called. I remember how strange he had acted back in my room, but in the end I chalked it up to nervousness.

Thankfully, we didn't have to wait for long. After a couple of minutes, Professor Claravan appeared before us once again and called out the next name, which ended up being mine. Austin and I scrambled quickly to our feet, taking a bit of time to tidy ourselves up before heading into the room. I shared a quick glance with him, then we walked in, closing the door behind us.

It was a strange feeling, seeing our classroom so bare. The rows after rows of desks we had grown so accustomed to seeing everyday sat empty, and behind his own Professor Claravan watched us approach, a couple of chairs in front of him waiting for us. Once we had sat down and exchanged a couple of pleasantries, he took some time to explain how the process would go. Question, answer, question, answer, then after that was done, he'd recount to us where we had messed up, and what things we should improve for the real exam. Austin and I nodded, and I swear I saw a glint in Professor Claravan's eyes as he leaned back in his chair, a faint smile creeping across his face. And then it began.

I-I need to stop you here, and before I go on, I need you to hear me out. Whatever happened to me, to us...it wasn't normal. I know you can dismiss it all as the delusions of a college girl's mind, but I _know_ what I felt. It wasn't nerves, or a panic attack. I-I mean, _this wasn't even an exam._ This was something else. I have never told this to anyone, because they would never believe me, but maybe you and your institute will.

The first question he asked us was an easy one. Something about the different types of rocks and how they formed, really basic stuff. Like, first-page-of-the-first-unit, high-school-kid-with-a-GCSE kind of basic. There was no _way_ I would have frozen against _that_ , certainly not with the weeks I had spent reading the coursebooks cover to cover, but as I sat there I found my mouth unable to utter a word. I became aware of an odd feeling of pressure in my chest, one that I hadn't payed any mind to, but that now I could no longer ignore. It was minimal, barely even perceptible above the beating of my own heart, but somehow it still felt... _oppressive_ , as if I had been caught in a vice and someone, somewhere, was slowly cranking the handle. My breathing became more shallow, and I didn't want to show it but I was beginning to struggle. I stole a glance at Austin, and he wasn't faring much better from what I could see. He looked pale, and his mouth hung slightly open, trying to catch his own breath. And all the while Professor Claravan stared, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two of us, either not seeing our distress...or simply not caring to.

In a sudden moment of either genius or desperation, I managed to get my act together and quickly blurted out an answer, though if what nonsense I said was in any way coherent, I could not tell you. As soon as I had done so, the stifling sensations that had plagued me began to recede, and I couldn't help but take a short but generous breath of air. They weren't _exactly_ gone--I could still feel the vice around my chest, clamping me gently but firmly--but I could breathe now, and as I tried to focus I began to notice that the room looked _different_ around the edges of my vision. Or, maybe not 'looked', but _felt_ different. Were the walls always this close? And the whiteboard? And I swore there had been more desks...

A sharp, sudden sound took me out of that strange trance, and I turned to find Austin slumped in his chair, shakily gasping for air. He looked at me with a confused expression, and I knew I hadn't been the only one. We tried to apologize, although exactly for what we weren't quite sure of, but Professor Claravan simply nodded. It was a fleeting moment, nothing more than a flash, but I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twisting upwards into a mocking half-grin, and the disgust that bubbled in my stomach almost surprised me. His eyes stayed on mine for a second, then shifted back to Austin's with what I could only describe as 'malice' before giving us a brand new question to answer.

All of a sudden, the terrible pressure I had felt came back in full force, squeezing me tighter and tighter with every new breath. I tried not to panic, but no matter what I did and how much oxygen I sucked in, it just wasn't enough. I was _choking_ , and I couldn't seem to do anything about it. I tried to come up with an answer just as I had last time, my brain racing to find whatever it was Professor Claravan wanted, but with mounting horror it dawned on me that I didn't even know what the question _was._ The room around me had shifted again, narrower and more confined and _hostile_ , and I knew we were running out of time. I turned to Austin but I could see he was struggling, his breaths now uneven and desperate like a dying man's. He coughed once, twice, his eyes watering with each convulsion, and every time he did I saw a small cloud of dust coming out of his mouth. His hands flew to his own throat, gripping and clawing at it with frantic vigor in a futile attempt to stop the choking. But it didn't stop, none of it. It built and built and built, and it threatened to swallow us whole.

Behind the desk in front of us, whatever it was that leaned back and watched our tragedy unfold was no longer our teacher. There were no monstrous changes, no transformation. No, just a smile. A smile so cruel and uncaring, so filled with malice and triumph and _satisfaction_ , that to imagine it from anyone but a nightmare would have shattered me. Once again my gaze found Claravan's, and as I stared at him--his eyes dark and becoming, a pulling point as the room shrunk and shriveled around us, and at the center of it, only _him_ \--, I remembered what Austin had said all those days ago, and I realized he had been right.

Claravan truly was _suffocating._

I had heard of people accomplishing amazing feats in situations of life or death, but this was the first time that had truly applied to myself. Summoning some hidden strength I didn't know I had in me, I grabbed hold of Austin's arm and leapt out of my seat, hurtling towards the door and dragging my ailing friend behind me. By that point the room had shifted into something completely unrecognizable, and the desks that had filled the floor now formed a narrowing and nauseating passageway, the only thing standing between us and freedom. I squeezed and scraped my way through it, my lungs begging me for air as the deep, harrowing laugh of Claravan reverberated through the corridor. The handle was almost within reach now, and with the last of my strength I stretched my body as far as I could and, never letting go of Austin's arm, I wrapped my fingers around it, and pushed. 

The rush of air that hit us as we tumbled out into the hallway was like nothing we had ever felt before. I inhaled, a deep and desperate motion, relief finally washing over me as the oxygen flowed into my lungs. I had never felt so light before, so _free._ Without even realizing, I let out a cry of joy, turning around to share our impossible victory with Austin, but his face was still a mask of shock as he tried to recover. I reached towards him, more gingerly now, trying to offer what small comfort I could give, but before I could stop him, he pushed past me and took off running, his retreating frame disappearing behind the bend of the corridor. I wanted to follow him, to make sure he was alright, but right in that moment I became aware of the stares of the rest of the students, their eyes fixed on me with a mix of curiosity and concern. 

Should I have warned them? Should I have said something-- _anything_ \--about what was going on inside that room? Even after all these years, I still think about that, but I try not to let it get to me. The truth is...I didn't say a word. Not to them, not to anyone. Because as I turned to look at the half-opened door, what I saw in there was an ordinary room, and an ordinary man.

I didn't see Austin again after that. I tried to call him, but he never answered, and the times I visited his dorm he was never there. He wasn't even present for the exam, although for that, I couldn't have blamed him. I guess, in a way, it didn't come as a shock when I heard he had hanged himself, or when they told me his suicide note said nothing more than _"I just want to breathe"._ It seems it had always been me or him. 

As for me? Well, once the semester was done, I dropped out of the course. What else could I have done? I couldn't fathom running into Claravan again. I had escaped him once--or maybe, _he_ had let me _go_ \--, but if there was another time, I doubted I could be so lucky. But it wasn't just that. Studying the earth just didn't appeal to me anymore. I told my friends and family it didn't feel right for me, and I guess, in the end, I was right.

It was just so suffocating.

**ARCHIVIST**

Statement ends.

_[Sighs]_ Yet another display of cruelty among those fated to serve our _gods._ Is it our own, that cruelty, I wonder? That pleasure in the exercise of our powers, in the energy that bleeds from our victims and feeds us once we're done? Or do we inherit it, growing stronger and sharper the more we strip our humanity away and give in to the horrors that call to us?... _[Sighs]_ Well, I don't think I want to find out.

Remarks aside, not much to comment on here. Another avatar of the Buried, it seems, although hearing of one making use of its powers above ground is certainly interesting, and not the least concerning. I would have never bet on the Buried getting a reach into academia, but I guess we all need our day jobs. In any case, as far as a cursory search shows, Mr. Claravan has resigned from his teaching job at Durham University, and is now listed as _"working privately"_ around the area of London, whatever that means. Well, closer to us, for starters.

Terrence J. Claravan...I wonder if I'll ever be unlucky enough to meet him. The coffin is now being safely guarded by the Institute down in Artifact Storage, so if he ever wanted to get his hands on it he might expect some resistance...but I don't know if that fact will make him a lesser adversary...or a more hostile one. I'll have to warn Daisy about it, in any case. I don't think she's in any state to have brush with those of the Buried's ilk...or anyone, for that matter.

_[Sighs]_ We need a rest.

End recording.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to @/shortforesmerelda in Tumblr for answering all my annoying questions and helping me be at least a little bit accurate, although I probably took a lot more liberties than expected, lmao.
> 
> I'm the high school kid with a (I)GCSE, clearly.


End file.
